Amnesiacs Stick Together
by Sogo
Summary: "When Celeste first met Randall Ascot, he was an amnesiac going by the name Lando who drove into London once a month to attend AA meetings." A story in which Randall and Claire like to banter, are determined to get their memories back someday, and are definitely NOT together, no matter what Firth likes to delude himself with. Rated for very mild adult themes.


**Okay, so years ago I actually started kicking this weird little musing around in my head: What if Lando (back then, everyone thought it was Lando, before the game came out and RUINED EVERYTHING (Not really, but the name Lando is so much cooler than Randall)) and Claire knew each other?**

 **My friend MouseMaster42 started a story where an amnesiac Lando meets her while she's in university, but I came up with something a little different. Weirder. But significantly more fun and also look Claire has a newspaper.**

 **The basic premiss is Claire lost her memories (but not her life) in the accident, and due to misplaced files, all information on her was lost and she's a virtual Jane Doe. Cue a series of amusing slices of life with a happy ending. Yay!**

 **I own nothing. Enjoy!**

Amnesiacs Stick Together

When Celeste first met Randall Ascot, he was an amnesiac going by the name Lando who drove into London once a month to attend AA meetings. As he had been an amnesiac for about a decade at this point, he was really just going as a formality more than having any hopes that Amnesiacs Anonymous would actually assist in restoring his memories.

Celeste had caught his attention, because she was sitting in the back looking rather awkward as the meeting was about to start. He'd slid into the seat next to her.

"Hi," he greeted. "I'm Lando."

"Celeste," she said with a small smile. "Or, at least, that's what I'm going by."

"Ah, you're one of us, then?" he asked. "Completely screwed because you have no one who knows who you are?"

"So I'm not the only one?" she asked, relaxing a bit. "My hospital records were all mixed up. They apparently sent me to the morgue at first, but I wasn't dead, and then a fire broke out… no one is sure who I am."

"I washed up on the edge of a creek about a decade ago," Lando told her. "Mind's still a blank slate. Can't remember who I was for the life of me."

"That's awful!" Celeste sympathized. "What did you do?"

"I was lucky enough to have a farmer take me in," Lando explained. "He's a good friend. Like a father to me, really. Craggy Dale is nice like that. Very accepting."

Celeste sighed. "I hope I get that lucky. I don't have any idea what I'm good at, what I did before… nothing. And…" She glanced around nervously. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Sure," Lando assured her. "Not that I have many people to tell-"

"I'm pregnant," she whispered. "About a month along, apparently. They found out at the hospital. I don't even have any idea who the father is. Or was. Or… I don't know, really. I'm sure I did know, obviously, but-"

Lando's heart went out to her. He knew that raising a kid was difficult with two parents, and with the stigmatism of being a single mother…

If he wasn't so incredibly impulsive, he'd never have done it. As it was, he would later consider it one of the best decisions he ever made.

"Listen. I know it's not much, but what would you say to coming to live in Craggy Dale? Firth-that's the farmer I live with-and I have an extra room, and it's hard work, but it's a good life. And I promise the people would treat you right."

Celeste blinked at him. "But… we've just met."

Lando threw an arm around her. "Come on, now. Like I said, those people took me in a decade ago when I was in a similar situation, and it sounds like you need help even more than I do! What kind of person would I be if I didn't do anything?"

Celeste gave a smile. "Well, when you put it like that…"

Lando grinned. "Great! Listen, I've been attending these meetings for a decade, and I can tell you that without any clue of who you were, they're pretty much useless. What do you say we bunk off and go for a cuppa?"

Celeste thought about for a moment before deciding that really, he _was_ the expert.

"Okay."

And so began a beautiful friendship.

 **-0-**

Lando was incredibly insistent that she move in immediately, and helped her pack her single bag (a backpack) before bringing her to his car and setting out for Craggy Dale.

The ride was long, and Lando spent most of the time filling the silence by chatting about whatever popped into his head at the moment. He realized that Celeste didn't really have anything to say because she didn't know anything she could actually talk about. Having been in her shoes a while ago, he completely understood.

It was something Celeste appreciated. She didn't say anything, but then, she didn't have to.

By the time they returned to Craggy Dale, it was dark.

Lando jumped out of the car and moved to help Celeste.

"I'm not infirm, Lando," she laughed. "I don't need help!"

"But I have to help! It's the duty of a… duty of a… Damn, I always forget how that ends," he muttered.

Celeste smiled. "Gentleman, perhaps?"

Lando snapped his fingers. "Yes! That's it! It's the duty of a gentleman to help a lady! Or something along those lines. I've been trying to finish that for a decade! How did you know?"

Celeste shrugged helplessly. "I'm not sure. It was just kicking around in my head, I suppose."

"Hm. Maybe you can help me remember other things as well," Lando chuckled. "Well, we'll soon see, I suppose. Come on, Firth should be waiting up for me."

Celeste wilted slightly at the thought. "Are you sure he'll be alright with me staying here?"

"Alright? He'll be thrilled I finally brought a girl home!" Lando laughed loudly. "He's been bugging me about that for years! Course, I don't think this is exactly what he meant, so be prepared. He'll probably try and twist any facts he can find to fit his view."

"Oh dear," Celeste sighed.

"And I should warn you, I think there's someone else," Lando added. "Just so you don't get any ideas. I mean, about what I think. It's pretty clear that you have someone else as well."

"Yes, probably," Celeste agreed. "Assuming they survived whatever happened to me."

"Well, you have to hope for the best, right?" Lando pointed out, opening the door to the house. "Hey, Firth! I have someone here I want you to meet!"

 **-0-**

As it turned out, Lando was spot on in his assessment of how Firth would react. The bearded farmer seemed quite thrilled to have a woman in the house, and in the coming weeks, would work extensively to push the two together.

It wouldn't work.

But it was increasingly amusing to see him try.

Lando was also pleased to see an unexpected benefit of having Celeste working on the farm. While she had tried to help in the fields, it quickly became apparent that her talents did not include farming. She wasn't strong enough to use most of the implements.

As she became increasingly pregnant, she focused more and more on house work. It was then that she discovered a hidden talent for cooking. Everyone was thrilled: Celeste, because at least she could still be helpful, and Lando and Firth because neither was skilled in the kitchen in any way, shape, or form. Really, the chance to eat someone else's cooking was a blessing.

And then, the baby came.

As a farming town, there wasn't exactly a lot of hospitals near. However, there was a midwife who was happy to help.

She basically shoved Lando and Firth out of the house with instructions to go _do_ something, _damn it_ , and the two ended up in the pub discussing the confusion caused by the fairer sex with a few other thoroughly sloshed pub goers. The mood was, however, generally celebratory. Everyone was happy when a baby was born.

It was several hours later that they were tipsy enough to dare to return to the house, to find the midwife and Celeste cooing over the new infant: a golden eyed boy Celeste named Alfendi. He already had a little tuft of red hair on his head.

"You know, with that hair color, people are going to be totally convinced Alfendi is ours," Lando commented with a wild grin.

Celeste glared. "You're pissed!"

"What?!" Lando squawked. "No I'm-" He cut himself off as he thought about it. "Oh wait. I am."

Celeste groaned. "Neither of you two are allowed to touch Al until you've slept it off."

"What?!" Lando exclaimed. "But-"

" _Now_."

The steel in her voice turned them both up the stairs to their rooms.

 **-0-**

Raising Al turned out to be a challenge for all of them. The boy was really too smart for his own good, and took an unfortunate interest in all things macabre.

For example, he enjoyed observing the slaughter of animals to the point Celeste was honestly worried she was raising a budding psychopath. It was actually Lando who figured out the best way to handle it.

"Now, Al, look at this arterial spray. Would you say this chicken was alive or dead when its head was cut off?"

The six year old tilted his head. "I'm 90 percent certain it was still alive!"

Celeste reflected on the fact that most mothers would be absolutely horrified by her parenting methods. She consoled herself by pointing out that most mothers were not raising Alfendi.

That actually did a lot to assuage the worries. The rest was taken care of by the fact that she'd really rather have her son on the right side of the bars.

 **-0-**

This family dynamic lasted seven years. And then, several months after Al's seventh birthday, Lando received an odd letter in the mail. He didn't tell anyone what was in it, but there was something… off about his behaviour.

Even Al noticed it.

Then came the announcement: "I'm going to Monte d'Or."

Everyone was rather taken aback by that, and Lando disappeared the next day, so they didn't get a lot of answers. All they could do was wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Finally, after several weeks and starting to hear rumors of a masked man terrorizing the city of Monte d'Or, Celeste persuaded Firth to go check it out. It took another week before she finally got the phone call she'd been waiting for.

"I found Lando. He's alright," Firth's voice came as Celeste breathed a sigh of relief. "He's also got his memories back. His real name is Randall Ascot."

This brought on a brief wave of terror. Now that his memories had returned, would he still want anything to do with them?

"Randall told me to let you know that he's apparently quite wealthy, and he would love it if you and Al came to live with him in Monte d'Or. He wants to hire you as his cook, and there are plenty of things to do here for Al."

Celeste choked back a sob of relief before she was able to answer. "O-of course. We'll start packing things. Does L-Randall want me to start packing his stuff as well?"

"That would probably be nice," Firth agreed. "He'll be down in a day or two, with his new fiance. I'm sorry about that, lass, I know the two of you had a special relationship."

Celeste decided to allow the older farmer his fantasy. "Yes… Al and I will start getting ready straight away. Tell L-Randall I'm really happy for him."

"I should let you know," Firth added quickly, "he's as scared of us now rejecting him as we are of him rejecting us. So just try not to change much, and everything will be fine."

She took a moment to consider exactly how hard she was going to hit him for disappearing on them. "I don't think that will be a problem."

 **-0-**

"Lando, you inconsiderate buffoon!"

Angela was taken aback by the woman who emerged from the farm house armed with a rolled up newspaper. And slightly worried, as they looked to be about the same age.

"I am so mad at you!" she shouted, and proceeded to begin smacking him with the paper, repeatedly. "No note? No calls? No idea why you just _up and left_? Do you have any idea how _worried_ we were? Al was completely convinced you were _brutally murdered_! And he's _seven_! You are _scarring_ my son, Lando!"

"To be fair, I'm not sure anything can really scar Al," Randall tried.

This was the wrong thing to say, as the woman's next strike landed on his crotch. Randall let out a yelp as he nearly fell over.

Then the woman turned to Angela and stuck out her hand. "You must be the fiance Firth told me about. My name is Celeste."

"Oh, yes, Randall mentioned you," Angela finally recognized, her eyes lighting up. "It's great to meet the woman who's been taking care of Randall all these years."

"So you don't mind that we're coming to Monte d'Or?" Celeste asked, a hint of relief in her voice. "That's good. Come on in, I'll give you a little tour, and tell you all the embarrassing stories I have about Lando."

"Wait," Randall protested. "That's not-"

"I think he expected us to be jealous of each other," Angela mused with a grin.

"His folly, really," Celeste agreed as they started towards the house. "When will men stop trying to understand us?"

"I really have no idea," Angela sighed.

Randall stared after them. "But… huh?"

 **-0-**

"Are you a mafia don?"

Nearly eight-year-old Alfendi stared impassively up at the tall suited man with messy blonde hair.

Celeste nearly had a heart attack. "Alfendi!" she snapped, grabbing at his arm.

The man, however, gave a dark chuckle. "Now, why would you ask a thing like that?"

"Because you're keeping to the shadows, you're dressed too nicely for someone just walking through the streets, and there are seven men in the area in uniform under your command," the boy listed.

Celeste barely resisted facepalming. "Al…"

"You are a sharp one, aren't you?" the man asked, his expression still darkly jovial. "How would you like a job?"

Alfendi tilted his head. "I'm not sure I would like working for you, sir, if you are a mafia don." He paused for a moment before adding, "Do your men have guns?"

Celeste did facepalm at that. "I'm so sorry, sir. He really doesn't have a filter between his mouth and his brain. Time to go, Alfendi, Lando said Sheffield is expecting you any minute now."

As she dragged her son off, the man stared after them. The boy looked shockingly familiar…

 **-0-**

Professor Hershel Layton relaxed in his office chair. It had been a long day in the car, back from St Mystere, but now he could kick back, relax, and possibly classify a few of the fossils he'd had waiting for him.

Unfortunately, his tendency to run off on wild adventures did not help his workload whatsoever.

The phone rang.

He glared at it for a moment before schooling his features. It would never do to be caught doing something so ungentlemanly as glaring at an inanimate object, after all.

He still answered it with caution.

"Hello?"

"HERSH! GUESS WHO YOUR NEWEST ARCHEOLOGY STUDENT IS?!"

Sometimes, though, even gentlemen could be forgiven for glaring. In extenuating circumstances.

 **-0-**

"Celeste! Al!" Randall ran into the room wildly flailing his arms. "We're going to London!"

Celeste blinked. "We're what?"

"We're going to London!" Randall exclaimed excitedly. "I'm finally going to become a real archeologist! A friend of mine, the one I told you about, is accepting me into his class, and it's in London!"

"We're not going to London, Lando," Celeste said flatly. "For God's sake, we just got settled here!"

"Al?" Randall prompted.

"Mum, if we go to London, then I can learn from the guys at Scotland Yard!" Alfendi said cheerfully, not looking up from where he was mapping locations of the Jack the Ripper murders on a large map of London.

"Plus, the schools in London will be better at handling a little genius like Al," Randall added.

"There is not a school on the planet that can handle Al," Celeste flatly pointed out. "And I'm not sure I like the idea of my son studying even more killers."

Alfendi let out a dramatic sigh. "Well, if I can't study with Scotland Yard in London, I'll have to come up with something to bring them out here. Perhaps a nice serial murder?" His eyes glinted. "Just think of all that beautiful crimson-"

Celeste growled. Not for the first time, she found herself wondering exactly who had provided the other half of the genes that had turned her son into a potential psychopath. "God _damn_ it, Ascot! He gets this from you!"

 **-0-**

They moved to London a few weeks later, leaving Henry in charge of Monte d'Or, along with Mrs. Ascot and Firth, who seemed to be spending a lot of time together. Angela, of course, had agreed to join them.

A couple months into the school year, Randall dragged Celeste down to meet his former best friend and current teacher. Unfortunately, the man had left along with his apprentice on the Molentary Express earlier that morning.

"So, is your teacher in the habit of running off on wild adventures?" Celeste questioned dryly, trying to figure out why that rang some long forgotten bell.

"Are you kidding?" Randall asked. "I taught him that!" A silly little smile appeared on his face. "They grow up so fast."

 **-0-**

"WE'RE GETTING MARRIED!" Randall announced to Celeste happily.

"...I did assume that from the fact that you're engaged," she pointed out.

"No, no," Randall argued, shaking his head. "Angela and I have set a date! We're throwing a party next week to announce it. We're getting married this summer!"

Celeste did break into a smile at that. "Congratulations!"

"Mum's coming up with Henry and Firth to the party, it's already planned," Randall continued. "And this place really is a great venue. And you can cater, of course."

Celeste held up a hand. "Hang on a second. What do you mean, 'of course'?"

Randall looked at her blankly. "Well, you are my chef, aren't you? So can't I just order you to cater my party?"

The dangerous glint in Celeste's eyes and the fact that she was reaching for a newspaper suggested that, no, he could not.

"Al!" Randall called desperately, looking rather nervous at her expression.

"Mum, do whatever Uncle Lando says, or I'll kill someone," Alfendi said, not looking up from his textbook on modern crime techniques.

"The severity of that threat has dropped significantly," Celeste replied sweetly. "And I think that your Uncle Randall would be very happy to hire a different caterer, don't you?"

Alfendi glanced up in surprise. "Oh, is that all it is? Uncle Lando, that doesn't seem entirely unreasonable, does it?"

"Well, your mother's cooking is very good," Randall tried to explain lamely.

Celeste smacked him with the newspaper. "That's hardly an excuse!"

Randall ran for it. "Angela! Celeste is being mean to me!"

"You probably deserve it!" his fiance called back.

"Lando! Get back here! I haven't finished displaying my displeasure!"

 **-0-**

"Hersh! You didn't RSVP!"

Hershel Layton looked up in surprise as his friend burst into his office. "Randall? What on earth-?"

"Angela and I went through all this trouble to throw this party, and you aren't coming?" Randal waxed on. "I don't believe it! You're my best friend! You have to show up! And you still haven't met my new chef, that amnesiac I told you about? I think you'd like her~"

"Randall, I'm afraid I'm really not much up for partying," Layton warned slowly.

"Is this about the robot attack thing?" Randall asked, thinking of Clive Dove's recent attack on the city of London. "Because, all that really shows is that you need to get out more!"

Layton winced. "Not… exactly. Randall, I do apologize, but I'm afraid I shan't be in attendance."

Randall nodded slowly. "If you say so. But you should know, you'll be welcome if you change your mind."

On his way out, he crossed paths with Flora, the young girl Layton had recently adopted.

"Mister Ascot!" She greeted happily.

"How many times have I told you to call me Randall?" he teased, shaking his head. "Ah, never mind. Look, you think Hersh should get out a bit more, right?"

Flora thought of the professor in question's recent loss. "Yes, I suppose so."

"Great! Listen, I'm having a party next week, and he's absolutely refusing to attend! Think you might be willing to lend a hand?"

It would shock most people to find that sweet little Flora Reinhold had a definite manipulative side to her. Randall was not one of those people.

"Oh, don't worry, Mr. Ascot. He'll be there."

 **-0-**

Celeste did not end up catering the party. Instead, she found herself dressed in an uncomfortable dress and attending.

She felt slightly out of place amongst the knowledgeable college students that made up most of the attendance, though she had surprised both herself and a small group of them when she'd argued a scientific theory one of the science majors had come up with involving particle physics. The debate had lasted nearly half an hour and ended with the student conceding defeat.

This left an oddly satisfied feeling in the pit of her stomach and the start of a nasty migraine prickling at her temples.

Of course, then she had to go find where Alfendi had wandered off to before he started causing panic amongst the guests for annoying him, something he was certainly likely to do. She'd not gotten more than a few steps, however, before she bumped into a top-hatted professor that made the start of a headache burst rather abruptly into a full grown migraine.

 **-0-**

"Come on, Angie, please?" Randall begged.

"Randall, no!" Angela hissed back. "We're hosting this party!"

"No one will notice," Randall argued. "Come on, we can leave Henry in charge!"

"It's not appropriate for the host and hostess to sneak off to… to…-"

"Snog?" Randall offered, only to be whacked upside the head. "Ow! Celeste taught you that, didn't she?"

"She did," Angela agreed. "Speaking of Celeste, I haven't seen her for a while. Have you?"

"No," Randall admitted. "I went looking for her and Hershel because I wanted to introduce them, but I couldn't find either of them. She's probably hiding out in the kitchen and Hersh probably booked it first chance, though."

"That's too bad," Angela sighed. The two probably would make an adorable couple. "We'll have to try and have Hershel over for dinner again soon."

"I agree," Randall chirped. "And now can we sneak off? Please? I have to have my last few flings with an unmarried woman while I can, don't I?"

"Randall…" Angela sighed, before inevitably giving in. Randall could be incredibly tenacious. "Fine."

"Great!" Randall cheered, grabbing her by the hand and dragging her down the hall. "I figure the storage closet should be empty!"

"Randall!" Angela giggled. "Don't you think that might be a little small?"

"All the more encouraging for us to get to know each other," Randall shot back, waggling his eyebrows. "Besides, I've been wanting to-"

He cut off as he opened the door to find Hershel and Celeste in a rather compromising position. Layton turned beet red, but Celeste just glared.

"Do you _mind_?!" she snarled.

Randall closed the door.

"I…" he tried, unable to find any words as murmuring was heard from inside the closet.

"I didn't think they'd get along that well," Angela offered, staring at the closed door.

"Right," Randall agreed, turning back towards the party. "So, do you want to find Flora and tell her she's probably staying the night? Or do you want to tell Al that he's probably getting a new father?"

 **-0-**

In the end, Flora did end up spending the night in the guest room, as neither Celeste nor Layton were seen for the rest of the night. In fact, it wasn't until nearly eleven the next morning that a very cheerful Celeste bounced into the dining room dragging a grinning Layton with her.

"Good morning all!" she cheered. "I have fabulous news!"

"You shagged Hershel?" Randall asked, before Angela smacked him on the back of the head. "Ow!"

"I meant besides that!" Celeste continued cheerfully.

Alfendi moaned and covered his ears. "That is far beyond what I ever wanted to hear!"

It was at that moment Flora entered the room from the kitchen, carrying a dish charred beyond recognition. She caught one sight of Celeste and shrieked, dropping the bowl and (thankfully) the noxious contents onto the floor.

"I got my memories back!" Celeste sang. "Also, I'm engaged!"

Layton blushed slightly. "If I remember correctly, I didn't exactly get to ask-"

"Shut up, Hershel, the fact that you were carrying my ring around in your pocket for a decade means a lot more than any stupid speech. Alfendi, this is your father, Hershel Layton."

Alfendi tilted his head as he studied the professor. "...You look like you would make a very intelligent serial killer."

Celeste leaned over to him. "Really, even after regaining my memories, I have no idea where he gets that from."

Layton opened his mouth, closed it, before he finally found the words he was looking for. "...Unfortunately, I think I know _exactly_ where he gets that from."

"Wonderful!" Celeste cheered. "Then it _isn't_ my fault!"

"Hold up!" Randall cried. "You and Hershel? You guys knew each other?"

"We were dating, seriously," Celeste said cheerfully. "A little birdy told me he was going to propose the night of the accident, when I lost my memory."

"I'm not sure me telling you ten years in the future counts as 'a little birdy'," Layton pointed out.

"Stop spoiling my fun, Hershel. The point is, Lando, I lost my memories in a much cooler way than you!"

Randall crossed his arms. "Oh, come on! What can beat falling from a cliff just before the final chamber in an ancient ruin?"

Celeste crossed her arms and grinned right back. "Time machine explosion."

Randall blinked, then scowled. "...Damn it. That _is_ cooler."

"I _know_ , right?"

Layton shook his head with a smile, watching the two banter. "Randall, Claire-"

Angela slapped a hand against her head. "Oh, goodness! You're _Claire_? Hershel used to write about you! And to think we could have solved his years ago if Hershel had seen a picture of our Celeste, or you had seen a good picture of Hershel!"

"It's better that I didn't," Claire admitted. "If I had, then I would have gone to see him, of course, and I couldn't do that because I'd met him ten years in the future and he was under the impression that I was dead, so going to meet him before I'd traveled to the time I'd traveled to, or rather, before the time I'd travelled to, would create a rather nasty paradox and paradoxes are very not good. If I remember my temporal physics correctly."

Randall blinked. "Celeste, I'm considered a puzzle prodigy, and I couldn't make heads or tails of that."

Claire patted him condescendingly on the head. "That's alright. Just let the brilliant scientist puzzle it all out for you."

Randall scowled.

"I assume you're not going to be working for us anymore, then?" Angela asked.

"What?!" Randall cried, jumping up. "No! You can't leave!"

Claire shook her head. "Sorry, Lando, but I can't be your full time chef anymore."

Randall pointed at Layton. "Hershel! This is your fault! You're going to be hoarding her beautiful cooking while the rest of us are forced to subside on-Ack!" Angela had yanked him back down into his chair.

"You're not going to go back to temporal mechanics, are you?" Layton asked worriedly. "I just… don't want to see you getting into any more dangerous experiments."

"No, I don't think so. Perhaps I'll open up a restaurant. At least that way it won't be hard to oblige when Lando comes banging on my door begging for food."

Layton grinned at the mental image, knowing Randall was just the type to do that. Then he sobered. "Actually, I just remembered. I have a class to teach today. And we have to get you moved into the flat."

"Is it the same one?" Claire asked curiously.

"No, but it's the same neighborhood. It's a bit larger, which is good, as there's a room for Alfendi, as long as he doesn't mind Luke's old room." Layton glanced at the boy. "Claire was telling me you like mysteries. Perhaps you'd like me to take you down to Scotland Yard sometime?"

Alfendi frowned. "Can you introduce me to criminals, too?"

Layton scratched his chin. "Well, I think your biological grandfather would love to meet you, and I think I still might be able to get in contact with your biological uncle-"

Claire punched him lightly on the arm. "You didn't tell me you ended up finding your biological family!"

A moment of silence fell over the kitchen, everyone clearly looking everywhere except Claire, who frowned.

"Okay, I'm missing something here."

"I just prefer not to think of them as being related to me in any way whatsoever," Layton said with a forced smile. "I'll explain later. But I really think if we don't go, I'm going to be late for lecture."

"Yes, of course. I'll come with you. Alfendi, if you start packing your things, we can move later today, which means your father will have time to take you to Scotland Yard tomorrow."

Alfendi hightailed it out of the room.

"Er, Professor?" Flora asked. "Is it alright if I help him?"

"Of course, my dear," Layton agreed, and she had soon shot after him.

"See you guys later!" Claire called, waving over her shoulder as she and Layton headed out. "Say, do you think if we don't say anything and I just turn up, we can give Dean Delmona a heart attack?"

"...Do you think we could give one to Prime Minister Hawks?"

 _Fin_

 **For the record, Al's mysterious mafia don is Leon Bronev, in the area to check out the Nautilus Chamber. If you look at it, Al does share a number of features with the Bronev family, including his eyes and his nose. And he has the same gangly look Hershel did as a teen. Hm…**

 **Anyways, hope you enjoyed! Review!**


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